


Romance By Any Other Name, Would Be As Sweet

by Tolazytopickaname



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bets & Wagers, F/M, Hermione hates his stupid ferret face, Meet-Cute, Playboy Draco Malfoy, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolazytopickaname/pseuds/Tolazytopickaname
Summary: “Have you been too busy reading trashy romance novels to answer my owls?” “It’s not trash!” Hermione shouted back. “It’s a perfectly valid literary form!” The room quickly cleared out, avoiding the obvious confrontation. “It’s trash written by desperate women who can only day- dream about the ‘perfect’ relationship. You can’t capture a real relationship in a book like that. It’s not possible.” Hermione glowered back at him, “It is entirely possible, and they are not written by desperate women.”Hermione stomped her foot, “I’ll prove it to you. Give me a week and I’ll write you the best damn romance scene you’ve ever read!" Draco looked her up and down and quirked his eyebrow at her, “And what if you’re wrong? What do I get out of this bet?”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 86





	Romance By Any Other Name, Would Be As Sweet

Hermione stared down at the front page of the prophet. Watching the picture of Draco Malfoy smolder at her. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, drawing attention to the hollow of his throat framed in a crisp white shirt. She read the caption again:

  
  


_DRACO MALFOY - ELIGIBLE BACHELOR ONCE AGAIN_

_September 12th, 2007_

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_Wizarding Britain's notorious playboy is once again on the market with a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Despite being repeatedly seen with Pansy Parkinson at nearly every society event this year, the young Mister Malfoy has denied being in a relationship. Ms. Parkinson, soon to be Zabini, has insisted that they were “only friends” and that she is actually “thrilled to announce her engagement with Mr. Blaise Zabini”. With Mr. Malfoy once again available, who will be next in line for a broken heart? Only time will tell!_

_See Pg 7 for our exclusive featurette on the Parkinson-Zabini engagement_

  
  


She flipped through the rest of her post as she walked down Diagon Alley. A letter from Ginny. A Witch Weekly Subscription renewal notice. Three notices from Malfoy Inc. And yet another letter from Draco Malfoy. She flicked the Malfoy Inc. notices into the trash -- decidedly set on NOT meeting with Malfoy Inc. about the “exciting new venture” that they’d been owling her about every other day for the last month. She then lit the letter signed D.M. on fire. You would think he’d have given up by now. He’d been asking her to dinner once a month for nearly a year. 

Hermione waved across the street to Madam Malkin as she slipped into Flourish and Blotts. She smiled at the cashier on duty and quickly made her way to the back room to find a seat at the set of long tables. She pulled out the book of the month, which she had read several times previously, and opened a well loved paperback between the pages of the larger book. She began reading to fill the time as others filed in for the book club. 

She scanned the pages leisurely, a slight smile on her face as she read her favorite passage. “Leave it to Granger to smile at a book,” a sneering voice interjected into her pleasant bubble. Hermione jumped and slammed her books shut, her face flushed in embarrassment. “What could possibly have you smiling that you would want to hide from the rest of the class?” Draco Malfoy, the bane of her existence, smirked as he quickly snatched the hidden book from between Hermione’s pages. She stared open-mouthed, in shock that he was not only sitting in the Flourish and Blott’s Muggle book club, but also skimming the cover of her obviously well read romance novel. The scantily clad maiden on the front cover was covering herself with the bed sheets in silent indignation as Draco Malfoy leered at her while her lover struggled to pull her back into the bed. Malfoy flipped open the book to the bookmarked page and read aloud, “He gripped her hair and exposed her creamy white neck. Lovingly he licked a slow line from her ear to her shoulder before seizing her close and kissing her-”.

“Stop it!” Hermione hissed, snatching back her book. “What I read is none of your business!” Hermione’s face was beet red as the other book club participants giggled and looked away. The group leader cleared his throat at the front of the room to draw everyone’s attention away from the obviously embarrassed woman and the smirking man next to her. “Everyone, I hope you enjoyed this month’s novel as much as I did! Who would like to open our discussion with a comment on the themes….”

Hermione tuned out the group leader’s overly enthusiastic dialogue, distracted by the man sitting silently next to her, leaning back in his chair. She silently fumed as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. “He is just sitting there, staring off into space. He doesn’t even have a book with him! He obviously isn’t here for the book club. Did he really come in just to publicly harass me?” Malfoy smirked at her and she realized she had started glaring at him during her internal monologue. She angrily ignored him and tried to make it through what remained of the hour long meeting. 

As soon as the leader assigned next month’s book, Hermione lept up, eager to leave her unexpected company, but her path was blocked by Malfoy, leaning his chair back onto two legs. “Move please. I would like to leave.” She stated firmly. Malfoy looked at her curiously, intrigued by her obvious shame and anger. “I’ll move if you answer a question for me.” Draco answered, acting amused. “Have you been too busy reading trashy romance novels to answer my owls?” “It’s not trash!” Hermione practically shouted back. “It’s a perfectly valid literary form!” The room quickly cleared out, avoiding the obvious confrontation. “It’s trash written by desperate women who can only day- dream about the ‘perfect’ relationship. You can’t capture a real relationship in a book like that. It’s not possible.” Hermione glowered back at him, “It is entirely possible, and they are not written by desperate women.”

Hermione stomped her foot, “I’ll prove it to you. Give me a week and I’ll write you the best damn romance scene you’ve ever read!: Draco looked her up and down and quirked his eyebrow at her, “And what if you’re wrong? What do I get out of this bet?”

“I’ll listen to your proposal for an exciting new business venture” - she mocked. 

“Not good enough”

Hermione scoffed - “You’ve been owling me everyday for a month about this stupid proposal!”

“And now it’s too late. Not interested.”

“Okay…..You can read my attempt to the group. I'm sure you’d love to try to embarass me in public again” Hermione countered. Malfoy considered her terms for a moment. “That’s not nearly good enough. You could just avoid the group. Or write something purposefully uninspiring to avoid humiliation.”

“Well, what do you want then?” she huffed. 

“I think you need a stronger motivator. If you fail to convince me, you have to come to dinner with me.” 

Hermione scowled, “You’re an arse.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not an insult, that’s the truth.” Draco quipped, throwing her a saucy wink. “Good luck with that writing. Let me know if you decide to forfeit.”

Draco plunked his chair back onto four legs and casually stood. He took his time walking out of the room with his hands in his stupidly expensive looking pant pockets. 

Too late, she shouted after him, “I didn’t accept!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 13th, 2007

Hermione sighed as she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She reached for her wand on the bedside table and projected the time.

6:30 AM. 

She needed to be at the ministry in two hours. Thirty minutes, if she wanted to prepare for her meeting. She wanted to skim through her notes a final time on the ridiculous new Aconite policy. 

Despite the obvious necessity of the herb for wolfsbane potion, the Auror department was trying to criminalize the Aconite trade. Apparently a few rogue potioneers had started incorporating Aconite into blackmarket poisons, and the boneheaded Head Auror was insistent on banning Aconite privileges to all but ministry approved Apothecaries. It was clearly a shortsighted proposal developed by an absolute idiot. After all her work getting Lupin’s Law passed, she couldn’t BELIEVE she still had to deal with this bias in the ministry after 10 years - and from the auror department of all places! The implications of bias towards werewolves through restricting access to essential potions would be enough to make them rethink the policy. 

Hermione rolled out of bed and walked to the shower. She quickly washed, and Accio’d her clothes. She slipped into her pencil skirt, buttoned her blouse, and paused to look in the mirror. Her curls were riotous this morning - frizzing from the humidity of the shower. She charmed her hair into a somewhat professional bun and grabbed her suit jacket from the hanger, then turned and apparated. 

Hermione appeared in an alley in muggle London with a crack, and walked briskly to the street. She turned the corner and entered the French Press, looking forward to a strong cup of tea and a pastry. The line was long, so she studied the display case. She glanced at the line in front of her - decidedly not moving. A man was flirtatiously leaning his hip against the counter. Hand in his suit pocket. Clearly chatting up the checkout girl and unconcerned with the line building behind him. Hermione rolled her eyes. A barista walked over to Hermione behind the display case. 

“What can I get started for you today?”

Hermione glanced down, settling on a treat in anticipation of the impending disaster of a meeting. “A large Earl Gray, two bags, with cream and sugar, and a chocolate croissant, please.”

As she watched the barista retrieve her croissant, from the corner of her eye, she saw the suit step away from the counter. Finally, the line was moving again. She glanced at her watch - 7:05 AM. She was behind. 

At last, she approached the counter.

“Oh no honey, you’ve already been paid for.” 

The barista raised a brow and eyed someone behind Hermione’s left shoulder. She turned, smiling ready to thank her mystery gift giver. And was looking at someone’s chest. A man’s chest, standing decidedly too close to her. A man’s chest in an obnoxiously expensive, tailored charcoal suit. She slowly raised her eyes.

“Morning Granger-- come here often?”

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, in his stupid tailored suit. In a muggle coffee shop. At 7AM. 

“What the hell, Malfoy, are you following me now?” She hissed at him. 

He smirked at her. “Why Draco, thank you so much for the tea and breakfast. How kind of you.” He mocked her in a singsong voice. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” She shoved the tea and bagged croissant into his hands and spun towards the door.

Draco followed her as she stomped down the street towards the ministry entrance, looking amused, carrying her breakfast. She stopped and looked back at him. 

“What do you want Malfoy?”

“I just assumed I’d give you some inspiration for your novel.”

“How on earth is stalking me supposed to be an inspiration?”

“Oh don’t all trashy romance novels begin with a meet-cute?”

Hermione huffed and snatched her breakfast from him. 

“I don’t need any inspiration, especially from you. Besides, I’ve already written my introduction. And it’s much more romantic than some cliched coffee shop meet-cute.” She turned and walked away from him, stepping into a telephone booth, and slamming the door behind her. 

She picked up the receiver and dialed the ministry as the door opened behind her - and Malfoy squeezed inside. “Care to share the lift, Granger?” The booth began to lower into the concrete, sliding down into the ministry atrium. Hermione pressed backwards into the booth, scrunching as far away from him as possible and glaring. He smirked at her - looking entirely too comfortable invading her personal space. 

The booth slid to a halt and Draco stepped out. He smirked. 

“Enjoy your breakfast granger.”

Hermione strode through the atrium, muttering furiously about blond ferrets, as she headed to her office. She arrived at the closet with her name tag on it - a crooked sign reading “Department for the Wellbeing of Magical Creatures” above the door. She pushed open her door and slipped inside. The room expanded as she hung up her jacket on the back of the door, revealing a modest desk and rows of filing cabinets pushed behind it. She flicked her wand at the empty framed segment of the brick wall to the right of her desk, and a window appeared, filled with a sedate tree line, blue sky and fluffy white clouds. 

She plopped down at her desk, pulled the Aconite file out of her top drawer, and angrily bit into her croissant as she began to review her notes. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione strode confidently towards the Auror’s office. A muffled conversation carried from the other side of the door. She glanced at her watch. 8:30AM. Right on time. 

She knocked briskly on the door, heard “Come in” and opened it. 

A blond head sitting in the chair across from Head Auror - Harry Potter. 

Hermione fumed. 

“Good morning, Harry,” she said tersely, ignoring Malfoy grinning at her. 

She slapped her Aconite file on Harry’s desk -- “What the hell made you think this was a good idea, Harry?”

“Hermi-”

“After all the work I put in passing Lupin’s Law. After all he did for us? You're his son’s godfather for Merlin’s sake, what were you thinking?”

“Just listen, plea--”

“Banning Aconite would completely inhibit the ability of werewolves to get wolfsbane potion, without a viable alternative. Harry, you have to know that!”

“I know, but-” 

“It's completely unacceptable to disregard the rights of an entire country's worth of werewolves just for a few cases of black-market poison”. 

Malfoy cleared his throat and Hermione pursed her lips and glared at him. 

“Why are you even _here_ , Malfoy”. 

“As the inventor of Wolfsruin, I’m here representing Malfoy Inc.”

“Wha-” Hermione interrupted. But Malfoy went on.

“Wolfsruin is the wizarding world's first Aconite free alternative to wolfsbane. It's long lasting, easier to brew, and free of poisonous ingredients, allowing even the modestly successful home brewer to produce. I’m selling the patent. If you had answered any of my owls in the past month, I would have consulted with you about it. Fortunately, Potter here is much more accommodating.”

Hermione gaped at him, a blush slowly burning up her cheeks. 

“Everything should be in order here -- Wolfsruin will be distributed in mass, prior to the Aconite ban. It should take very little effort to implement. It’s been a pleasure, Potter.” Malfoy shook Harry’s hand. “Always a pleasure, Granger,” Malfoy skimmed Hermione’s body with his eyes and then turned and walked out the door. 

Hermione stared after him. 

“Harry-”

“You did this to yourself ‘Mione. Why on earth have you been ignoring his requests to meet about this. It's groundbreaking! It’s the best we could hope for, second to a cure!”

“I didn’t know! He’s been alternating asking me to dinner and asking me to meet. I thought he was propositioning me!” Hermione looked to her feet and sighed. “Dammit. I think I need to apologize.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco was leaning on the wall outside her office. 

Hermione walked towards him, pressing her Aconite notes against her chest and looking down at her feet. 

“I’msorryIneveransweredyourowls” she mumbled. 

Draco was silent. 

She glanced up at him and he was staring at her with a strange expression. 

“I never thought I’d hear the day granger apologized to me.” Draco quipped. 

Hermione frowned. “ I shouldn’t have ignored your messages from Malfoy Inc. It was rude and unprofessional of me. I apologize.”

Draco smiled at her. “You’re forgiven.”

Hermione flushed and shuffled her papers. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and stepped forward to unlock her office. Draco remained next to her doorway.

She looked at him, “Was there something else you needed, Mr. Malfoy?”

He stared at her expectantly, “ I was waiting for you to finish your apology?”

“Finish it?”

“Well yes Ms. Granger. I assumed since you were apologizing for ignoring my messages from Malfoy Inc, you might also wish to apologize for ignoring some other letters?” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I’m not apologizing for ignoring harassment, Malfoy.”

“I can assure you it wasn’t intended as harassment,” his eyes twinkled at her. “I merely assumed the owls were losing their post. Public owls are so unreliable these days.” 

He stepped forward towards her into her personal space- “So Ms. Granger. Will you go to dinner with me?”

Hermione shook her head, “ I know your reputation,” and backed into her office, bumping into her desk. 

Draco took another step forward. “I would very much like to go to dinner with you.” His voice lowered an octave and his eyes smoldered at her. Hermione flushed and felt her body heat, her eyes dropping to his mouth, and carefully moved to put the desk between them. 

Hermione licked her lips nervously. “I believe that would ruin the terms of our bet.” She said evasively. 

“I thought you ‘didn’t accept’ that bet?”

Hermione froze, realizing she had been out maneuvered. 

“In that case -- I’ll await your owl, on September 19th. I’m looking forward to reading your ‘romance’ novel.” His eyes flicked from her face down her body. She tugged at her pencil skirt, feeling exposed in the tight fabric, and his eyes connected back with hers again. She felt hot. And flustered. And his attention left her highly off balance. 

“Just let me know if you need any more inspiration Granger. I’m happy to provide whatever source material you need to help you in this little wager. It’s only fair.” He smirked, eyes twinkling at her. He then stepped back and once again left her staring at an empty door frame. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 17th, 2007

Hermione sat back in her chair and huffed, blowing a curl out of her face. She glanced out the window to her right at the sun lit tree line outside of her apartment. She looked back at the blank parchment sitting in front of her, sucked on the end of her quill and slowly scratched out a scene. “The sunlight danced across the leaves unnoticed as Dean looked deeply into the eyes of his one true love. He slowly leaned down and kissed the girl, infusing all of his longing into the motion of his lips”. 

She gazed back out the window, trying to imagine the emotions and feelings of her unnamed heroine. Staring blankly at the treeline, she watched as fluffy, white, picture perfect clouds floated gently through the breeze. The scene was the epitome of a lazy summer day, and should have been the perfect inspiration for her romantic novel. 

Unfortunately, it was all bullshit. Hermione slammed her chair backwards in frustration, crumpled the paper, and threw it in the wastebasket. The grumpy witch flicked her wand at the window, revealing the grungy brick wall of the building across the alley from hers. The smell of mildew drifted in from the window and she slammed it in disgust. 

“How am I supposed to write about the perfect romance when I literally have to conjure a fairytale just to set the _scene_ for one?”, Hermione growled. She flopped down on her sofa and glared at the popcorn patterns on the ceiling. Her foray into writing had proven wildly unsuccessful in the past week. She wanted to write the perfect romance and prove to that smarmy git that not only are romance novels a perfectly acceptable form of literary expression, but also that the passion and romance found within them are absolutely possible and realistic, thank you very much. The problem is, everything she came up with was trite. She had tried and abandoned every cliched romance setting, character and trope she could think of, over the last five days. NONE of it was inspiring. And it certainly wouldn’t win this stupid bet. 

She was **seriously** regretting reading that romance novel in public. She REFUSED to be Draco Malfoy's next arm candy. No matter how nice he looked in his stupidly expensive suits. She turned her head and frowned at the blank pages on her desk. She stretched her arms above her head and reclined further into the sofa, closing her eyes. “I just need to relax.” She said to herself. She wiggled into the sofa and tried to settle herself. She let her mind drift and fantasize. “Who are my characters. How would they behave?”

She imagined his eyes, staring into hers. 

_What color?_ Deep brown, she decided. Like hers. Two souls. A perfect match in separate bodies. 

She smiled and charmed her quill to write for her. 

She imagined his eyes staring deeply into hers. She envisioned his face. Aristocratic. Handsome. With a sharp jaw and fair skin. He felt desperately familiar and she sighed with longing. His neck is long and lean, and she watched as he swallowed. The strong tendons of his neck lead into a defined collarbone framed by the collar of a white button up shirt. She wanted to run her mouth over his neck and feel the pulse there. His chest is broad and toned, dwarfing her against it, and she felt small. He leaned over her, caging her between the swell of his arms. His eyes flicked down her body. She tugged at her skirt. Too tight. Too short. Her body heated where his eyes touched. And when his eyes flicked back to hers, they were gray. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 18th, 2007

Hermione paced the pavement in front of Malfoy Inc, carrying a folder with the single scene of her romance novel. She worried her lip, trying to decide if she was being idiotic. Clearly coming here was a mistake. She could admit defeat. Attend one dinner. The prophet would have a field day, but then it would be over. She twirled to head back towards the ministry and crashed directly into Draco Malfoy.

He carried a cup from the French Press. Clearly it was freshly poured, based on the abundance of coffee spilled down her front, staining her blouse. Her folder lay open on the ground, coffee stained. 

Draco looked down at his ridiculously expensive suit, coffee beading on the dark fabric without sinking in. He scourgified the liquid from his jacket, looking completely unflustered. He scourgified her blouse, and although it dried, the dark stain remained. 

Hermione stammered, “Shit! Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry!”

He reached down and picked up the folder, glancing at the contents. His eyes heated as he skimmed the paragraph and his tongue flicked out to brush his lip. His eyes slowly drifted to hers as she stared back at him, mortified. 

“Come on Granger -- I have something inside you can wear.” He smirked and walked into Malfoy Inc., holding the door for her. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stood inside Draco’s office, looking out the glass windows across the London Skyline. His desk filled the room. A satiny wood, stained black. Black leather chairs for guests faced a painting behind his desk. As she stepped forward to examine the painting more closely, Draco returned to the room, carrying a white button up. 

“I keep spare shirts here in case of emergencies. This should fit with a few adjustments.” He handed her the shirt. She thanked him and glanced around - searching for anywhere else to look but him. 

“So was that little tidbit the extent of your writing? I’m not sure I would call it a novel.” Draco teased, eyes twinkling at her discomfort. 

“It’s…. Not finished” She muttered. 

“Our bet doesn't end until tomorrow. Are you forfeiting?” He smiled at her, questioningly. 

“Not exactly.” She played with the buttons on her blouse and flicked her eyes to him, looking quickly back away. She stared at the painting behind his desk, avoiding his eyes and searching for courage. The soft clouds, blue sky, and tranquil tree line reflected back at her. 

She returned her eyes to his. “I was hoping for some inspiration.” She smiled at him, coyly. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco stepped slowly towards her, giving her the chance to change her mind. He reached a steady hand to her hip, and pushed her back towards his desk. She dropped the spare shirt on the floor beside them. He braced his arms on either side of her, caging her between his arms, echoing the scene she wrote. She gasped and looked into his gray eyes hovering above her. 

He slowly raised his palm to her cheek, holding her jaw, and brushed a thumb across her bottom lip. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Can I kiss you?” He whispered, inches from her mouth. She leaned up and captured his mouth with hers. His mouth was hot, but his lips were soft. He kissed her back, pillowing her bottom lip between his. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, asking for entrance. When she opened to him, he groaned as his tongue sought hers. 

Hermione whimpered at the overwhelming heat, at the feel of his body towering over hers. She fisted a hand in his jacket pulling him to her, and raised on her toes, trying to get closer. He reached down and grabbed her hips, lifting her and seating her on the top of his desk. His fingers rose to the hem of her shirt, playing with the line of skin at her hip. He slowly slid his fingers up her ribs, pulling back from the kiss to watch her face. She gasped as he ran a thumb just underneath her breast, sensitive from his touch. She reached up and opened his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders. His white shirt underneath was crisp, and cool against her fingers, as she smoothed her hands along his firm chest, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hand against her ribs. She brought her hands down and lifted her own blouse over her head. 

He looked down at her with dark eyes, kissed her quickly, and then swiftly peeled off his own shirt, not pausing to unbutton it. Hermione stared at the expanse of his chest and raised her mouth to his neck, kissing softly at the junction of his neck and collar. She felt his pulse flutter against her lips and sucked it, marking him. She bit down softly, a scrape of teeth, and he groaned. He reached behind her and unclasped her pale pink bra, sliding the straps down her arms. She sucked in a breath, and her breasts touched his chest. 

She craned her neck up at him, in the small distance between them. Her breath came in little pants, her breasts brushing against him with each rise and fall of her chest. 

He moved his hands to her knees, painfully slowly dragged his hands up the outside of her thighs, hiking up the fabric of her skirt. She spread her legs and he squeezed between them. Pressing closer to her, resting his hands at her hips. 

She reached between them for his belt, unbuckling him. The harsh sound of the metal clinking jolting her eyes back to his. He squeezed her hips tightly, encouraging her to continue. She slid the soft leather through the buckle and slipped the buttons of his pants through the holes. Her fingers brushed the swell of him and he inhaled sharply. Her lips quirked. 

He stepped back and pushed his pants down, kicking them behind him, and standing bare before her. She reached for him and traced a line, feather light down his stomach. He shivered, and Draco pushed her back gently, pressing against her shoulder, asking her to lay back for him.

He carefully traced his fingertips up the inside of her thighs, pausing at her core. He slid the tip of his index finger just along the edge of her knickers and she let out a sigh. She rolled her hips as he pressed his palm against her center. She was warm and wet beneath his fingers through the thin cloth. 

His hand traced up her hip, and slid her knickers down to drop at her feet. 

He leaned forward, his breath ghosting up her thighs, along her belly, her breasts, her neck, to her mouth and she pressed her eyes closed as he kissed her. 

He touched her again as he kissed her, sliding a finger along her core, gathering her wetness and then slowly pushed inside her. She purred and sighed as he worked her. Moving inside of her slowly. He slipped a second finger inside of her and she keened. His mouth copied his hand as he thrust inside her with fingers and tongue. He stroked her over and over again, and then pressed her sweet spot and she moaned. She felt him hard and ready, pressed against her thigh as he touched her. 

She gripped his hair, pulling his mouth away from hers. 

“Please, Draco. I need you inside me”. She begged him and he moved inside her a few more times, before withdrawing. She felt his length press against her entrance and her eyes fluttered closed, hands drifting to his back. He pushed inside of her and unguarded pleasure flashed across his face. He pulled back and thrust inside her again, quickly. One hand on her hip, he stretched the other out to palm her breast. 

As he thrust again, he circled her nipple with his thumb. Her nails dug into his back as he pushed and pulled inside of her. He reached a hand to her knee, lifting her leg and opening her to him. He thrust deeper inside of her and she threw her head back in a moan. 

He leaned back from her, watching her spread out across his desk and he entered her over and over again. His hand slipped from her breast down toward her core and circled. Electric shocks of pleasure filled her as she gasped and wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper. 

His rhythm began to falter as she raised her hips to meet him and her breathing quickened. He squeezed her thigh with bruising force and he stroked her in tight quick circles as she gasped. She fell apart with him inside her and he shuddered. The feeling of her walls squeezing him, bringing him along with her. 

They panted against one another, coming down from the high. She traced little figure eights on his back as he played with her hair. He kissed the side of her neck and murmured into her skin. 

“Dinner with me tomorrow. Please?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 19th, 2007

Hermione browsed the menu and sipped her wine, as Draco read her manuscript across the table from her. It was rough around the edges. Not quite a perfect romance. But it was hers. 

His gray eyes were heated when he finished as he looked up at her. 

He smirked, “You Win.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic! I've had this idea brewing for a while, and finally felt brave enough to write it. 
> 
> Love it, hate it, have ideas to improve it? Please leave me your thoughts!


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